


The Female Form (Blue is the Warmest Color)

by filmxbookgeek



Category: La Vie d'Adèle | Blue is the Warmest Color (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Nude Modeling, art student emma, lit major adèle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 19:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7477188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filmxbookgeek/pseuds/filmxbookgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU. Emma is an art student and Adèle poses nude. Writing this because all the Blue is the Warmest Color fanfiction is all really sad and I just wanted some fluff for once. One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Female Form (Blue is the Warmest Color)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Blue is the Warmest Color. This is just a little one-shot because all the BITWC fanfiction is reALLY SAD and MAKES ME CRY so HERE’S some FLUFF! Also, I’m not in college. I don’t know how professors tell people to take their clothes off! Sorry if everything the professor says is awkward and unnatural.

“Today, we will be studying the female form.”

Emma took a sharp inhale - this could only mean one thing. Nude models. Well, that wasn’t a definite, but it was a very real possibility.

“The female form,” her professor continued, “Is full of curves and edges, hills and plains, soft and hard. We have a volunteer model who is a perfect example of these contrasts. She is a student here and a literary major. I would like you to welcome, Adèle.”

And the most beautiful woman Emma had ever laid eyes on stepped through the doorway. Adèle was tall, most of it in her legs, and covered in (presumably) nothing but a terry cloth half robe. Her hair was up in a messy bun and her eyes were the color of melted chocolate. When she smiled shyly at the small class, Emma had to look away for a fear of blinding herself.

The professor’s voice tore her away from her wandering mind, “Alright, Adele. You may disrobe and position yourself comfortably. You may be there a while.”

The brunette untied her sash and tossed the garment away. Emma heard her professor speaking and the other students beginning to shuffle their pencils. All she could pay attention to was Adèle sat in a chair and twisted slightly, giving a profile of her pushed out chest and soft features. The creamy skin that was revealed was not marked by a single blemish. Emma was shaken out of her reverie when cinnamon eyes connected with her ocean blue ones. She could feel heat rising in her cheeks, so she snapped her gaze down at the blank paper, picked up a charcoal pencil, and began to trace Adèle’s gorgeous figure.

An hour and a half later, the professor called pencils down. Emma was just finishing blending in a shadow. She was proud of her work, felt it to be an accurate interpretation - but something was missing.

“The class will be critiquing each of your sketches. Adèle, you can go ahead and put that robe on. And feel free to stick around for the critique.” The brunette stood gracefully and sauntered over to the chair her robe was draped over. Emma almost pouted when Adèle tied the robe around herself and took a seat.

“Emma,” the professor called her attention, “How ‘bout you start us off?”

The blue haired girl was caught slightly off guard. She never tried to call much attention to herself – which seemed odd now, considering the bright blue hair. She knew her art was good, but it was a part of her and was personal. This, however, was very simply a nude sketch - no personal connection.

She slowly stood and slid her sketchbook under the projector. A beautifully realistic image of the literary major appeared overhead on the wall.

“Wow,” the professor stared at the projection, dumbstruck, “This is amazing.”

Emma gave a quiet thank you and glanced at Adèle. The woman was staring, open-mouthed, at her likeness. Her eyes shown with appreciation, admiration, probably a couple other ‘tions’.

“So, Emma,” the professor said, tearing her gaze away from the other woman, “How do you think you did?”

Emma looked up at her drawing, then at Adèle - and realized that the brunette’s gaze was fixed on her, waiting. There was no way Emma could capture this woman’s beauty, the way her eyes shown, her smooth skin. Emma couldn’t help but flash the gorgeous woman a small, gapped-toothed smile, her gay showing.

“I don’t think I do her justice.”


End file.
